


Noses and Necklaces

by GirlWithaPearlEarring



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: But I wanted Esca in a Kilt, But then NOSE TOUCHING, Canonically Esca is the one who tackles Marcus, Fluff, Forehead Touching, He's good at war, Historical Anachronisms, Hurt/Comfort, Kilts, Light Angst, Like incredibly Light Angst, M/M, Nose Touching, Oblivious, Oblivious Marcus, So much Nose Touching, Sorry Not Sorry, That's basically all this is, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Very long story notes, Which I always thought was my bulletproof vanilla kink, Why is it always the other way around in fanfic?, You blink and it's gone, not good with feelings, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWithaPearlEarring/pseuds/GirlWithaPearlEarring
Summary: [Based primarily on movie canon, but takes a few ideas and characters from book canon.]Esca shares a story of his past with Marcus which allows his parents' most cherished tradition to be continued. (See tags for more details.)





	Noses and Necklaces

**Author's Note:**

> Unless otherwise noted, all italicized dialogue is understood to be in Common Brittonic (Esca's most probable language) and all other dialogue in Latin.

It begins with a memory.

Marcus had found Esca on his pallet curled in a ball of misery and hadn't known what to do. He speaks softly, asking if he would like to be alone, but Esca looks straight at Marcus in his customarily off putting way and asks, “Do you ever miss them so much it aches your very heart?”

And Marcus had no choice but to sit next to him and rub his back as his mother had once done for him. It seems to make things worse, as Esca curls back up and grips his hair so hard Marcus can see the roots. He tries singing softly in Brittonic, the only song Esca has been able to teach him – something about the sun's journey and a young boy – and Esca begins to sob brokenly.

Marcus keeps singing and rubbing his back because he doesn't know what else to do.

Eventually, the storm passes and Esca tells Marcus a story of his mother and father. He uses a word Marcus has never heard and only vaguely sounds Brittonic. He asks after it.

“Oh,” says Esca, surprised. “It is, well. It means...” He trails off, moving his hands fruitlessly. He sighs, fits his hand to the side of Marcus' face, and moves very close.

It's only when Esca touches his nose to Marcus' – a quick back and forth gesture – that Marcus realizes his eyes are closed and his heart is pounding. Esca moves back, laughing, and Marcus touches his nose in confusion.

“They would always do that before my father left the house, even if he was going five feet away to the neighbor's,” Esca explains. He's looking at Marcus thoughtfully, his eyes very far away.

Marcus rubs his nose to cover his expression and Esca's eyes come back sharply. He grins. “Though perhaps the Romans simply cannot.” He flicks the tip of Marcus' nose. “They'd lose too many eyes.”

Marcus tackles him.

 

* * *

 

The memory of Esca's parents stays in Marcus' thoughts for a time. They're staying with his uncle, recuperating and deciding on their next move.

It is on a morning when Marcus is lounging in the garden while his uncle speaks with some friends in the _tablinum_ that Esca walks through, heading for the front door.

“Where are you off to, my boy?” asks his uncle genially.

Esca pauses, glancing back. “A walk,” he says shortly. Marcus supposes his uncle must have raised an eyebrow, because Esca elaborates, “It is a pleasant day. I'll not stray far.”

“See that you don't,” chimes in Lepidus, his uncle's merchant friend. “I hear talk of ferocious beasts ranging nearby.”

Marcus snorts in amusement before he can help himself, earning confusion from Lepidus and exasperation from his uncle.

Esca smirks. “Not to worry; I have Roman protection.” Dexterously, he flips out the dagger Marcus gifted to him last Saturnalia. Marcus wonders if he's the only one to pick up on the irony in Esca's tone.

Lepidus pauses, seems to take in Esca's expresssion, perhaps the tattoo peaking out from his tunic. “Ah, good. Good.”

It is as Esca is reaching the _impluvium_ that Marcus has a thought and springs up, calling after him. Esca pauses, turning.

Marcus reaches him and keeps going, palming the side of his face and briskly rubbing his nose against Esca's. Marcus feels Esca become motionless, his eyes blank, before he grins and shoves Marcus away, saying “ _Less and less Roman every day._ ”

Marcus only smiles and says, “ _Safe travels,_ ” one of the only phrases in Brittonic that Esca pronounces _passable_ rather than _ungodly poor_ concerning his pronunciation.

Marcus' uncle is eyeing him with a particular glint when Marcus remembers to turn back around. He's not sure he likes it.

 

* * *

 

Once might be passed off as a joke, even as a friendly reminder. That Marcus knows what Esca has gone through and will be there in whatever way he can.

Twice might be straying into uncertain territory. More and there is almost certainly more to it.

It is on the tenth time that Marcus comes to think of this. It has become second nature to him and – it seems – Esca as well.

He is sitting on the banks of the river near the Caledonian village they're passing through, watching several children at their ball game nearby. Esca stops close by, his kilt fluttering against Marcus' upper arm.

“We are invited on the raid,” he says.

Marcus grunts, rubbing his face and glancing up. Esca's hair is crowned golden in the afternoon sunshine and his eyes are as steadfast as always. He is bare chested, the blueish spiral of his tattoo curling around distractingly.

“That looks fine,” Marcus returns, gesturing at the kilt. “Is it made to represent the Brigantes?”

Esca narrows his eyes. “I don't understand why you remain so Roman in this,” he says.

Marcus sighs. It is an old argument. A cattle raid is a major event for any tribe of Britannia, yet Marcus refuses to take part. He thinks it too barbaric even for him. “Esca,” he starts, then changes tack. “ _I am what I am_.”

Something in Esca seems to soften and become sharper at once. His body relaxes minutely but his eyes bore into Marcus', magnetic. “ _Who am I to change that?_ ”

Then he smiles and says, “We'll return with the stars.”

“ _Safe travels_.”

Esca smiles more fully at that, but does not move away. He seems to be waiting for something. Marcus glances at him again, curiously. Something in Esca seems to wilt and he nods, more firmly than the occasion calls for. He turns away.

It is as Esca is reaching the group preparing for the raid that it dawns on Marcus. He jumps up and trips after Esca, calling out. Esca whips back around, eyes wide. Marcus doesn't hesitate.

Esca's hair is sun warm between his fingers and his ear is curved and supple. Esca laughs out loud and grips Marcus back, familiar and cherished, lingering in his space to initiate the touch once more before letting go, smile gleaming wide.

The men around them whoop and tease and the children by the river cheer. Marcus colors and can't help but feel they just did something far more scandalous than touch noses.

 

* * *

 

They have been staying in the borrowed house in Hispania for several months when Marcus has something of a realization. It is always him. Esca never initiates it.

It is with this thought in mind that he comes to Esca whittling on the floor by the fireside and announces, “I'm off to the market today. We need some supplies for meals.”

Esca glances up, lost in thought. He hums and says absently, “Try not to accidentally insult the merchants, won't you?” He goes back to his whittling, a small totem that looks vaguely familiar.

Marcus nods. Then he lingers. He clears his throat several times, awkwardly shifting his weight. Finally, Esca looks up again. “Was there something else?”

Marcus does his best to look hard-done by and glances around, shuffling. “No, no. I'll return shortly.” He sighs and turns away. He makes it to the doorstep.

“You're an idiot,” Esca tells him fiercely and – far more gently – brushes his nose against Marcus'. His fingers shift through the hair at the base of Marcus' head, making him shiver just slightly. He pulls away, looking tense with something Marcus cannot place. Esca's fingers slide across his scalp as he pulls his hand away, never breaking eye contact.

Marcus nods, suddenly breathless and not knowing why. He smiles, quickly, then turns resolutely away. He turns back once at the bend of the road. Esca is still standing on the threshold, arms held stiffly at his sides, eyes clear and riveted on Marcus.

 

* * *

 

It breaks open in Calleva.

They've returned briefly for another Saturnalia visit. It is Marcus' favorite holiday and Esca would not begrudge him a proper Roman celebration.

His uncle has several friends in, most from local places, one all the way from Rome herself. High born citizens all, and absolutely useless in the kitchen.

Marcus can see Esca actively holding back his comments and he smirks into the dough he's kneading. Finally, one well-placed shout from Sassticca and the subsequent roar of laughter from the rest of his uncle's slaves seems to break Esca's resolve.

“Like this,” he snaps, snatching the knife from Placidus and peeling the apple in one long, smooth motion. He slaps the knife back into the stunned Roman's hand and goes back to mixing another batch of dough.

Marcus can't contain his snort of laughter while his uncle forgoes subtlety altogether and throws his head back, laughing just as loud as the slaves.

Esca flushes slightly, glaring at Marcus. “ _What?_ ” he bites out.

He has a puff of flour on his nose and his ears are sticking out more than usual under his messy mop of hair. Marcus wants to tackle him. He wants to wipe away the flour. He wants to. He _wants_.

Esca must see something of this epiphany in Marcus' eyes because his look softens. Marcus wonders if he's imagining it when it feels like Esca leans into his touch when he cups his cheek and swipes at his nose with his thumb. He decides he doesn't care.

With a smirk worthy of Esca himself, Marcus leans in and very deliberately runs his nose the length of Esca's, finishing with a soft back and forth gesture across the tip.

When he pulls back, Esca's eyes are very dark and Marcus barely hears the catcalls of the slaves (no doubt led by Stephanos and Sassticca) or the spluttering of Lepidus and Placidus. All his senses are full of the elegant strength and quiet intensity of _Esca_.

Esca covers his hand and smiles. Marcus shivers with what he thinks is anticipation.

 

* * *

 

Esca corners him later that night and immediately calls him an idiot. Marcus can't help but agree.

Esca then presents him with the small wooden carving of an eagle that Marcus had glimpsed him working on in past months. It is tied with a fine leather cord, made to be worn around the neck.

Esca then explains in excruciating, merciless detail what exactly the necklace means and why he's gifting it to Marcus. He then says he has done so because – again – Marcus is an idiot and must have everything spelled out for him.

“ _Do you accept?_ ” he asks, playing at exasperation, but Marcus sees something like fear lurking in his eyes. Marcus stands still for a moment and Esca shifts in place, uncharacteristically nervous. Something about the gesture strikes Marcus and he thinks to himself, clearly, _That won't do._

Slowly, Marcus leans his forehead against Esca's, rubbing his nose against his. Esca closes his eyes. “ _In every time, in every place,_ ” he says, fervently.

Esca grinds his forehead against Marcus', his face twisted against some strong emotion. Then he pulls back suddenly, slips the cord over Marcus' head, and uses it to pull Marcus fully against him, kissing him desperately.

Marcus may be slower than he'd like when it comes to certain implications, but this. This he can do.

He kisses back, sinking one hand into Esca's overgrown mop of hair and sliding the other down his back to his hip, pulling Esca more securely to him. Esca keeps hold of the totem with one hand, but uses the other to angle Marcus' head, using the new position to kiss in such a way that Marcus feels it run down his spine and into his toes.

He groans and breaks the kiss, whispering Esca's name reverently. Esca makes a small sound that Marcus instantly wants to hear over and over, his eyes tight shut and his breathing erratic. Marcus kisses one of his ridiculous ears and has a second, smaller epiphany.

“I love you,” he whispers to Esca's hairline. He repeats it in Brittonic, “ _I love you_.” He sounds slightly shocked even to his own ears.

Esca laughs, a high-pitched, breathy thing. “Oh, Marcus,” he murmurs in exasperation. He scratches his nails over Marcus' scalp, making him shudder, then pulls back and – tenderly, slowly – touches his nose to Marcus'. It is more intimate than any action Marcus can remember. “I know.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> -Common Brittonic (otherwise known as Old Brittonic, British, and Common/Old Brythonic) was the father of all modern British Isles languages and was spoken over much of modern day UK (ancient Britannia). In the movie, they use Gaelic, which is still spoken today in Ireland. 
> 
> -The nose touching is based on an Inuit practice called a kunik (and the inspiration behind the incorrectly named Eskimo kiss), in which you place your nose and upper lip against the cheek or forehead of a loved one and breath in, causing temporary suction. At this point in history, it's highly improbable that Esca's parents would have picked up on this, as it was a non-erotic intimate gesture used by people who would often have their mouths covered when meeting outside (cold weather and traditional clothing) and most of those people were either too far away or very hostile. However, nose rubbing is a traditional greeting among many other groups of people as far ranging as New Zealand and Yemen, so I took some license here. It's not completely impossible.
> 
> -The kilt came about as a garment in the 16th century, so much, much later than when this fic occurs. I don't care. I wanted Esca in a kilt and I got Esca in a kilt. So there.
> 
> -About the necklace bit: I just love the idea. Marriage gifts weren't uncommon during this time, but they featured heavily on the concept of dowry or rings. (The wearing of the marriage ring on the fourth finger is a Roman custom based on the idea that that finger had a vein that led directly to the heart.) As far as I can find, ancient British and Celtic marriages had little to offer in terms of gifts; most information talks about marriage rite customs, not what happens beforehand. 
> 
> This is what I can offer: Esca perhaps picked up the idea of a trinket to express commitment from one of the places they traveled and began to whittle an eagle for Marcus, but he ended up deciding he wanted to see it more often than whenever Marcus brings it out of his pocket, so he fashioned it into a necklace. Ta-da.


End file.
